


loose ends

by flowermasters



Series: lady kylo ren (and her general) [14]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Minor Original Character(s), Morning Sickness, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Past Character Death, Unplanned Pregnancy, also a mild panic attack but that's not an official tag, this is leia and kylo centric so enjoy the suffering i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7577878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowermasters/pseuds/flowermasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So they have come to it already: the moment where Leia demands an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	loose ends

**Author's Note:**

> Leia never stops giving me the feels.
> 
> Warnings for: cisgirl Kylo, pregnancy, some consideration of abortion (nothing concrete), Leia and Kylo's dysfunctional relationship, mild discussion of past major character death and canon-typical violence (yeah, The Han Thing.) Kylo has what I would consider a panic attack due to stress/exhaustion/shock but recovers fairly quickly.

“Well, it’s too late to prevent scarring, but we ought to be able to reduce the damage, at least. I’m going to apply some bacta and a bandage, if that’s okay.”

The Rebel nurse tasked with healing Kylo’s wounded shoulder – some chit of a thing who helpfully declared her name to be Zaira – is hovering annoyingly close to Kylo’s ear, like a little bee. Kylo resists the urge to take a swat at her.

“Fine,” Kylo says flatly. She honestly couldn’t give a damn about another scar if she tried, but – feigning exhaustion (not so feigned, really) and sequestering herself in a deserted corner of the sickbay seems like the easiest way to avoid any errant Skywalkers until she can get out of here. She can sense them nearby, of course, but doesn’t push for details; Rey and Luke will undoubtedly feel it if she does. Of course, Rey and Luke are hardly her biggest concern at the moment. She’s spent all day, every day with them for the past few weeks, tolerating Uncle’s cold silence and Rey’s unflinching conviction. One might even say the three of them have been through a crucible together.

But Kylo does not want to think about Snoke, her uncle, her cousin, or anything else potentially troubling. She especially does not want to think about her mother, who is somewhere in this base at this very moment. Not doing this proves – challenging. Kylo can feel Leia’s presence practically _blinking,_  a beacon of pulsing energy in the Force. She can’t decide whether it calls to her or warns her away, but she has reason to suspect the latter.

To banish these thoughts, she thinks of Hux: a shameful distraction, but a successful one. He’s much too far away for Kylo to get any real sense of what he’s doing or how he’s feeling, but when she calls upon the Force, she feels confident that he’s alive, well, and uncaptured. She would sense it if something had happened to him, that much she is sure of.

Kylo twitches slightly, jerked from her thoughts, when the nurse begins to swab cold bacta onto the ragged, half-healed cut on her back. “Sorry,” Zaira says hastily. “Cold?”

Kylo says nothing. She feels unpleasantly exposed; the position of the wound means she’d had to remove her shirt for accessibility, so instead she wears a paper-thin medical tunic, fastened at the neck and slit down the back. She doesn’t particularly care if the nurse sees her body, but the gown makes her feel – vulnerable. Weak. Hux would say she’s being ridiculous; perhaps she is, but she cannot deny that it’s how she feels.

The bacta’s soothing effects kick in quickly as the gel warms against her skin, but Kylo refuses to be comforted by the sensation. She immerses herself in thoughts of Hux again, entertaining herself by trying to guess what he could be doing. There’s no way to know; Kylo doesn’t have any idea what time or date it is on _this_ planet, let alone on the one she’d left Hux on. Her biological rhythms have been completely thrown off, having barely adjusted to begin with. He could be sound asleep for all she knows. Kylo thinks then of what Hux _would_ be doing, if she were with him – what they would be doing together, as many times as they could. She won’t let him leave the bed when she returns. She’ll keep him there for as long as they both can stand it, and he’ll mock her for her insatiety but he’ll love it anyway –

“All finished,” Zaira says, startling Kylo out of her reverie once more. Kylo hears the nurse snapping off her gloves. “I can give you something for exhaustion, if you want. To help you rest.”

Kylo has no intention of sleeping here, but it would be foolish not to take advantage of their resources. It’s part of the reason Kylo even came to the sickbay at all. Being away from Hux and the little hideaway they’d inhabited for weeks has provided her with two things – clarity and a desire to get back as quickly as possible. They’d lived with abandon in those weeks, both of them certain that it couldn’t possibly last. Now, it seems there’s a real chance that it _might_ , and that means concerning herself with things she’d forgotten altogether, resigned to the assumption that she would be dead long before it could ever matter.

Kylo clears her throat. Her voice is hoarse, creaky, after days of speaking only when necessary. “Do you have contraceptives here?” she asks bluntly as Zaira rounds the end of the cot on which Kylo currently sits. “Long-term ones.”

Zaira’s curiosity is piqued, but she doesn’t show it. She isn’t surprised by the question itself, Kylo notes, but rather by the aggressive nature in which it was delivered. Kylo clenches her fists at her sides uselessly. She _hates_ this, but it is necessary. “Yes,” Zaira says. “We have –,”

“I want an injection,” Kylo says. Then: “Now. Please.”

“Have you received one before?” Zaira asks patiently.

“Yes.”

Zaira thinks she sounds petulant. Frustratingly, this reminds Kylo of something Hux would think. It does not make her like Zaira any more.

“Do you know when you received your last dose?”

A pause. Kylo doesn’t remember the date; those endless stretches on the _Finalizer_ sometimes seemed to blur together, nothing but the chimes of a shift change to indicate the passage of time. At any rate, it’s been months, since just before the destruction of Starkiller and the muddled series of events preceding it. She hasn’t given it a thought since. “Too long ago.”

Zaira opens her mouth, a routine question about menstrual cycles already forming on her tongue, before something in Kylo’s expression draws her up short. Kylo steels her gaze, filled with another burst of loathing for this ridiculous situation she’s found herself in. “Is there a chance you could be pregnant?”

The answer should be simple. _Yes_. There are multiple factors pointing to it, and Kylo has considered and weighed them all over the past few weeks. Most obviously: her cycle is now woefully late and she’s had Hux inside her more times recently than she dares to count. Less obviously, but still worth noting: she’s felt sickly at odd times, and can no longer reasonably blame it on food when she hasn’t had an appetite for days now.

And finally, the least reliable and yet somehow the most damning piece of evidence: she can _sense_ it. Something has changed, a ripple in the Force spreading outwards from herself. Slowly, gradually, but it’s there. Had everything else remained normal, she might've assumed this change had something to do with the death of Snoke. Now, she cannot be so sure.

Kylo must answer, or nod, or perhaps her silence speaks for itself. Zaira speaks carefully when she says, “I can test you, if you want.”

At this, Kylo does nod, and Zaira moves away. She steps briefly around the nearby corner, fetching the appropriate medisensor. In the nurse’s absence, Kylo’s hand drifts to the pendant resting against her upper sternum. She’s touched it often during these past few weeks, sometimes pressing it against her skin hard enough to leave behind a tiny welt. Hidden constantly by her clothes, it is an invisible but physical reminder that she has something to return to, something which demands her attention just as much as this does. She can't waste any more time.

Zaira returns, her expression carefully neutral as she asks Kylo to sit up straight and remain still. Kylo tries not to bristle at the instructions, reminding herself that this nurse has no way of knowing that Kylo has already done this once before.

That was months ago, back on the _Finalizer_ , and it had not felt like this. Then, she'd been fretting over a missed period, sick with the knowledge that the Supreme Leader would be furious once he learned that she had allowed her body to get the better of her. Snoke knew about her dalliance with Hux, of course, but he had never explicitly forbidden it; in her darkest of thoughts, the ones she used to view as traitorous, Kylo occasionally wondered if Snoke had allowed those many encounters with Hux because they kept her satisfied. _Docile_.

There had been no pregnancy then, and at the time Kylo readily considered herself done with the matter, distracted by other things. This is different. There is no master to fear, no orders to obey. She’d seen to that herself. Yet this feels bigger and somehow even more consequential than before.

The medisensor beeps a few times, processing, and Zaira watches the readout, waiting for the results. There’s a soft trilling sound as it reaches a decision, and Kylo can’t see the screen but she can feel the nurse’s reaction to it, the surprise quickly smothered by professionalism.

“Well,” Zaira says slowly. “It says here that you’re about a month in. But these things can be temperamental sometimes – I can try it again, if you’re not sure.”

“No,” Kylo responds hoarsely. “I’m sure.”

Zaira seems slightly taken aback by this. Distantly, Kylo suspects she’s a bit out of her depth here; a Resistance medic would’ve cut her teeth on broken bones and blaster wounds, not something as mundane as this. But Kylo is out of her depth as well. This is – not something that should’ve happened. She has been reckless, yes, and she suspected that it might be true, but –

“Ma’am,” Zaira says, suddenly annoyingly close again. Her face looks strange somehow, swimming slightly in Kylo’s vision. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Kylo snaps, jerking away. The cot rattles, its legs scraping backwards across the floor by several inches. Kylo suspects that must have been the Force slipping free of her control. Zaira takes a step back, startled. She doesn’t understand what just happened, naturally, but apparently it got the message across.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “What can I do to help?”

“To help,” Kylo repeats skeptically. This is part of the reason she hates medbays, she decides; nobody knows when to leave well enough _alone_. She doesn’t want to be _helped_ , she doesn’t want to be poked and prodded and scrutinized –

“We can talk about your options,” the nurse suggests, with the air of someone grasping at straws. She looks genuinely concerned now; apparently Kylo looks as bad as she suddenly feels. She’s sweating mildly, mouth gone bone dry. “If you want.”

Her _options_. As if there’s a choice – as if she could do anything but –

“Or I can go get the doctor,” Zaira adds. She doesn’t elaborate, but Kylo knows enough to guess that Zaira would need a doctor’s assistance to terminate a pregnancy. The idea of undergoing such an intimate procedure with not one but _two_ people watching her, studying her, asking if she’s alright – it turns Kylo’s stomach. Although, perhaps it’s not just that; throwing up is apparently par for the course now. She has no time to dwell, and can only raise a hand to her mouth, a half-formed noise of alarm wrenching its way out of her throat.

Zaira, to her credit, springs into action. She has a small plasteel bin shoved under Kylo’s face in an instant, and holds it there steadily even though Kylo only manages a weak, shuddery gag. There’s nothing to expel, and mercifully the sensation abates fairly quickly.

Hot with shame and fury – at Zaira for seeing this, at herself for _doing_ it – Kylo starts to stand, wanting to flee, desperate to find somewhere, anywhere, to compose herself. “Whoa,” Zaira says, setting the bin aside. “Sit tight, okay? At least until it passes.”

Kylo is, admittedly, forced to sit back down. The room tilts around her when she attempts to move from the cot. Zaira attempts to help her into a horizontal position, but refrains when Kylo snarls at her wordlessly. “Just sit still for a few minutes, okay?” Zaira suggests, backing away. “I can get you something for nausea.”

Kylo starts to protest, but Zaira has already slipped out of sight again. She doesn’t seem to know how to deal with Kylo, and perhaps that’s understandable; very few people do. Hux is probably the only one, actually – or at least the only one who’s managed to survive prolonged contact. Thinking of Hux seems to have abruptly lost its calming properties, mostly because Hux would be incredibly not calm in this situation.

She falls upon the old stand-by: meditation. Closing her eyes, monitoring her breathing, calming her mind thought by thought. It’s more of a Jedi trick than anything, and not always effective to boot, but it is too familiar to give up, especially when she can't afford to release her feelings in a less discreet manner at the moment. She’s fairly confident that if she meditates like this through the entire procedure, she can distance herself from what’s happening. Aside from some physical discomfort, it’s probably not that complicated – _a relatively simple procedure_ , as Hux had described it once before. At any rate, it will be over quickly enough. She’s letting her emotions get the better of her, that’s all. They so often do that.

Thinking about the procedure isn’t helping quiet her riotous mind, even though she must get around to it soon. She certainly can’t leave here like this; it would be impractical to seek this service elsewhere. If she ends it here, she can get back to Hux that much more quickly. He wouldn’t even have to know, really. Hux dislikes being reminded that he is capable of carelessness.

But he _has_ been careless; this is as much his fault as it is hers. He hadn’t so much as thought of a pregnancy. Like her, he’d been so sure that they were going to die, or at the very least be separated forever if the Resistance found them first. He’d been content with the idea that he would spend the last days of his second chance with her, hidden in that little cottage. Perhaps that second chance will last longer now that Snoke is no more, but Hux still has nowhere else to go. Kylo even dares to think that there’s nowhere else he _wants_ to go; she saw as much in his face when she left. She feels it now as she senses him waiting for her, far away and frightened. But this – this is not something he bargained for. He would be – horrified, probably, by how foolish they’ve been.

But he _would_ stay, she thinks. Even if she left now, still with child.

It’s a ridiculous idea. Hux would be the first to declare it so, and Kylo would be forced to agree. They can’t keep this child; what would they do with it, after it was born? Care for it, obviously, but even that would be entering uncharted waters. Kylo has never been around babies before, not even when she was still Beni; infants were few and far between in the places where she spent her childhood. She wouldn’t have been interested in them at the time, anyway.

And as for older children – well. She has killed children, and so has Hux. That is irrefutable fact, even as she knows their child would be different. She could not bring herself to harm their child, not for anything. It’s weakness, the pull of the Light, but it’s undeniable.

But hasn’t she already given in, in a way? Didn’t she give in to the Light when she killed the Supreme Leader? Perhaps before that, even.

That seems to be the rub, then. There is nothing to stop her, save for her own hesitancy. Snoke cannot take the child from her, whether from her body or in the flesh. Not even Hux could force her to do it, if he so chose – and somehow Kylo suspects he wouldn't, although she isn't sure if it's the Force telling her that or simply wishful thinking. She isn't sure when this became the matter of wishful thinking at all, only that it has gotten far out of hand.

She does her best to stop thinking altogether; doing so is the only way to remain calm, to keep herself from doing something very foolish – something like leaving right now, consequences be damned. She must meditate, and surely reason will come to her.

Calling upon the Force steadies her, but only slightly. She finds herself following the little pulse of energy she had been so unwilling to search for, though she had sensed its presence. It is within her but not totally her own, the epicenter of the ripples she'd felt before. Studying it feels like trying to take hold of something only slightly thicker than air, but with effort she is capable of far more than this.

Surely it is curiosity that makes her reach for it, nothing more. After all, few beings trained in the ways of the Force as she is can claim to have created life, to have held it inside them and felt the Force shifting around and within it, preparing for infinite possible outcomes.

Her breathing has steadied slightly and the frantic pounding of her heart has slowed, but she is not at peace yet. She has never felt something this delicate, even within the vastness of the Force. _What do you mean, little one?_ Kylo asks it, terrified by how tiny, how full of Light it feels. How it _calls_ to her, even without words. _Why are you doing this to me?_

There is no answer, of course. The presence within her is just a clump of cells, not yet capable of movement or – anything, really. But now that she’s noticed it, she can’t seem to _stop_ noticing it. Her curiosity persists even when nothing changes; the tiny thing inside her simply continues to exist, pulsing gently in the Force. It's fascinating, even as it is the strangest thing she's ever known.

A vision comes to her in snatches. A curl of auburn hair – sweet, mild soap – a child’s small hand, grasping at air.

Kylo gradually becomes aware of a stiffness in her neck, but it's mild enough not to warrant immediate attention. She feels groggy and disoriented, and wants to linger in those visions for a while longer.

Not just visions, she realizes after a moment. Dreams. She'd fallen asleep at some point, pulled under by exhaustion.

Kylo opens her eyes, squinting involuntarily against the fluorescent lights of the sickbay, her vision refusing to cooperate. How long has she been lying here, slumped against the cot with her arms wrapped around herself like this? She has to go, she has to get back to Hux –

Finally her eyes manage to focus; the first object she recognizes is a cup of water, sitting on the bedside table next to the cot. Beside it is a small pill, no doubt meant for relieving nausea. Zaira must have left it there, perhaps assuming that Kylo was already asleep or simply did not wish to be disturbed. Roughly a second after processing all of this, Kylo realizes that something is very wrong.

She's already turning her head, having registered that someone is watching her, when Leia says, “Beni.”

“Mother,” Kylo blurts rather dumbly as she lurches upright, her back ramming against the cot’s metal headboard. The wound on her back throbs in protest, and her brain feels sluggish with sleep inertia, unable to process what's happening. Kylo’s panic is almost instinctual, uncontrollable, and Leia grimaces ever so slightly as it no doubt smacks her in the face through the Force.

“Calm down,” Leia says, holding up a hand as though to indicate harmlessness. Inanely, Kylo remembers that being told to calm down when she's good and roused is something Leia herself despises; they have always been quite similar in this regard. However, Kylo gets the feeling that her mother is mainly saying this out of a concern for Kylo’s health, not because she wants to press any buttons. Kylo wonders, slightly horrified, exactly how long Leia has been watching her, and what she may have noticed.

“I am calm,” Kylo says finally, but it's not very convincing. She's brought this upon herself – she's lingered here for too long, and now her mother has sought her out at last. Kylo, in a moment of cowardice, thinks of fleeing. She did not flee from her father when he came for her, but things are different now. Everything is different now. She has a choice in this much, at least.

“I'm not here to harm you, Beni,” Leia says, very solemnly. Kylo’s heart lurches.

“I know,” she says defensively. Then, to herself: _that is not what I fear._

For a moment, Leia just looks at her, eyes lingering briefly on the jagged scar that bisects Kylo’s features. Leia studies it not with the sympathetic curiosity or mild repulsion of a stranger, but rather with – sadness, Kylo thinks. Great sadness.

“I was told you were injured,” Leia says finally. “I didn't know that you were ill.”

“I'm not,” Kylo says, too flatly to her own ears. She swallows, her tongue and mouth still clumsy from sleep and confusion. It's best if her mother doesn't pry any further into the source of her discomfort. “Luke. How is he?”

Leia guards her expression carefully, but Kylo knows she must be surprised by the question. “Healing well,” she replies. “He's going to be fine.”

Kylo nods, although this is not necessarily new information. She'd sensed as much earlier. Kylo wonders briefly if Leia knows that she tried to heal Luke on the way back from the citadel – but she herself had been weakened at the time, and Luke would not tolerate being touched by something so Dark. It hardly matters now, but – perhaps it would mean something, if only to Leia.

Almost as if she’s following Kylo’s line of thinking – which isn’t possible, unless Kylo’s control has taken leave of her completely – Leia says, “Rey told me that it was you who finished Snoke off. I’m glad to hear it.”

Leia doesn’t sound surprised, and Kylo isn’t sure what to say. It’s the truth. She settles for, “I did what I had to.”

“But you didn’t,” Leia says, her gaze and her voice steady. “You could have stayed away. They would have gone without you.”

This is also true. It stings a little to admit, even just to herself, that Rey could have done it alone, but Luke would likely be dead now if she had. There’s little point in trying to analyze all the paths they each _could_ have taken; clearly even Snoke could not follow that many threads. At any rate, Kylo may have technically had a choice in the matter, but it wasn’t much of one. Rey and Luke would not have forced her to go, for they could not have trusted her to comply if they had – but she went willingly. Her options were to hide away with Hux indefinitely, living in fear of the day Snoke found her, or to die doing what she could to keep Hux safe. A death at Snoke’s leisure would’ve been the purest form of torture, and Kylo would not subject herself to that, let alone Hux.

“I wanted to see him dead myself,” Kylo says bluntly. “Surely it’s not so hard to believe.”

“I believe it,” Leia says. “I just can’t help but want to know _why_.”

Kylo feels suddenly cold, like there’s ice water in her veins. So they have come to it already: the moment where Leia demands an answer. Some kind of explanation for everything – and for Han Solo most of all. It would take more time than Kylo has to explain herself, and even then it would only be a start.

“I tired of being his apprentice,” Kylo says. A lie, but she has long had a talent for hiding things from Leia. “He would have killed me if he could, so I killed him first.”

“I felt it,” Leia says. “When he lost you. I could hardly believe it, but I know now that it was true.”

Kylo clenches her fists again, but says nothing. It’s impossible, but – Leia is not to be underestimated.

“After your father’s death, I felt your pain,” Leia says. She speaks as steadily and clearly as if she’s giving a speech, but Kylo can feel the rawness of these words bleeding through the Force, through the bond that she and Leia apparently can never truly sever. This is nothing rehearsed. “Your turmoil. It was faint, but I knew it wasn’t just my own.”

“Mother,” Kylo interjects.

“Please, Beni,” Leia says, half reprimand, half a genuine plea. For a moment Kylo is caught between worlds, all at once a misbehaving child and yet terribly herself. She doesn’t interrupt again.

“But you were still lost to me. You were suffering, and then one day – something just broke,” Leia continues, as though the words must be said. “I felt you more strongly then than I had in years.”

Kylo avoids meeting her mother’s eyes. Whether Leia realizes it or not, she’s talking about the weeks after Hux’s death – those weeks of madness spent locked away in the citadel, trying to resist the Force’s pull as it sought to guide her to him. Going to him is the only failure she’s ever been glad for, and surely must have been the breakthrough that Leia speaks of.

“I suppose I just want to know what changed,” Leia says finally, after a long pause. “Was it your father?”

Kylo swallows. Her throat feels tight; she wants to reach for the cup of water, but doesn't. “That was the beginning,” Kylo concedes. Not just her father’s death, but coming so close to dying afterwards – for a time she wanted so badly to join him. But she had not, and would have been afraid to do so had she been in her right mind. She could not have faced him again, not even in death.

Leia studies her for another long moment. “That's all he wanted, Beni. To bring you back to us.”

“I know,” Kylo says, again refusing to look directly at Leia. It's childish, cowardly, but just because she's submitting to this conversation does not mean she has to be a willing participant. Besides, this is – again – not _new_ information. Kylo knew all along what her father wanted, and she’d acted anyway.

“I still speak with him in dreams,” Leia offers. “He always believed you would come back.”

Kylo swallows down a nauseating surge of something strange, a mixture of guilt and leftover loss. She doesn't want to talk about her father, much less about the visions Leia has of him, and yet she still hasn't made a move to leave. She sits as though rooted to the spot, eyes on the floor, body tense. Waiting. Leia has not finished yet.

“He forgives you, you know,” Leia says finally.

The words spring to her tongue, unbidden. “And you?” Kylo asks, gaze flicking upwards.

“Of course I do,” Leia says firmly. Her eyes gleam faintly; Kylo knew even as a child that her mother was capable of weeping, but she has never actually seen it happen. Such a thing would've always been hidden, kept away from Beni Solo’s eyes. “His death haunts me. But you are my child, and you're with me now. That means more than you know.”

Kylo swallows hard. She feels horribly close to tears herself; Leia must sense this, because she steps closer, a wave of comfort cresting gently in the Force. Kylo flinches, because if Leia comes any closer this will all be over, what little control she has left will shatter completely –

Leia doesn't move again, and Kylo can hardly suppress her relief. Whether or not Leia is offended by this reaction is unclear, but either way, they both use the brief moment of silence that follows to compose themselves.

Movement catches Kylo’s eye; she's been too distracted to notice strangers approaching. It's Zaira, entering the deserted infirmary from the far entrance with an unfamiliar man in tow – a doctor, judging by his uniform. Zaira takes one look at her general and practically skids to a halt, utterly unwilling to interrupt what no doubt looks like a very serious conversation. The doctor nearly bowls her over, but avoids a collision at the last second. It might have been comical under literally any other circumstances.

Regrettably, Leia does not fail to notice their arrival, nor does she misunderstand the object of their scrutiny. “Beni?” she says, her gaze flicking back to Kylo. “What's going on?”

Across the room, the nurse and the doctor are making themselves scarce again; Kylo makes a point of watching them go. “Nothing.”

“Tell me, please,” Leia urges. “There's something going on, I can feel it. If you're sick –,”

“I'm _not_ sick,” Kylo snaps. “I'm pregnant.”

There's an odd sort of exhilaration in rendering Leia speechless – or perhaps that's her heart pounding from finally saying the words aloud, and in front of Leia at that. Telling the truth was an impulse decision, a necessary evil to make Leia stop fretting, but now that it's out, Kylo wonders if there had ever been any point in hiding it. Leia was already growing suspicious, and unless Kylo destroyed Zaira and the doctor’s memories and whatever records they keep, she could've easily found out. Or maybe she would've even sensed it, if – if a child of her bloodline was born.

Kylo is seized by the fleeting but panicky thought of her mother showing up one day, out of the blue, and taking the child away. It could never happen, _would_ never happen, but perhaps it would be in the potential child’s best interests. Leia has no doubt learned from her own mistakes, and would certainly be far better suited to caring for and protecting a child than a failed Jedi turned failed Sith and a notorious, supposedly dead mass murderer –

 _No_ , Kylo tells herself firmly. _She wouldn't dare._

Then, soothingly, almost automatically: _nobody could take you from me, little one._

“Are you sure?” Leia says, jolting Kylo from her thoughts. The question seems to be mainly a formality, but Kylo nods anyway.

“Oh, Beni,” Leia says. She looks – conflicted, mostly. Concerned and confused, too. There is a surprising lack of dismay or displeasure, but maybe she's just in shock.

Kylo doesn't know what to say to that; she resists the urge to wrap her arms around herself, to hide as much of herself away as possible. She'd nearly forgotten the medical gown, but she becomes all too aware of it now. She wishes she could get up and put her tunic back on without upsetting Leia (although when that became a concern, she isn't sure.) When she tentatively probes for Leia’s thoughts, testing the waters, Kylo finds mental barriers drawn up tight; whatever Leia’s reaction, she isn't ready to share it just yet.

“Are you going to keep it?” Leia asks after a moment.

Kylo looks away. The answer slips out anyway, traitorous. “I don't know. Maybe.”

Leia’s brow furrows. “Do you _want_ to keep it?”

Kylo's cheeks feel hot. She's blushing under Leia’s scrutiny, and in a fit of pique at the realization she repeats flatly, “I don't know. Maybe.”

“Beni, this is serious.”

“Don't think I don't know that,” Kylo snaps, resisting the urge to gnash her teeth. It’s so frustrating, not being able to articulate her own thoughts clearly and succinctly. How could she possibly convey that even as she knows she probably shouldn't, she already feels as though she will? She can't even understand these thoughts herself, much less make Leia understand. If it's this hard to talk to Leia, who barely knows Kylo as she is now, then she can only imagine how much of a scene Hux is going to make. Perhaps this was an even bigger mistake than she could’ve predicted.

Leia takes what is likely a calming breath. “Well, I'll help you in any way that I can,” she says. “You have time, now that you're here, to consider your options and your feelings –,”

“No,” Kylo says quickly. “I have to leave, once I've – once I've made my decision.”

Leia doesn't look entirely surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but unsurprised. Surely she must've known that Kylo wouldn't stay, even if she could.

Leia's watching Kylo closely when she says, “Rey mentioned that you were with someone when they found you. Someone whose identity you were trying to protect.”

Kylo thinks fleetingly of the necklace; she doesn't touch it. She knows what Leia is really after here. “He’s the father.”

“I don't suppose you'll tell me who he is, or at the very least why you don't want anyone to know,” Leia says dryly.

This is dangerous territory, and Kylo can't help but bristle slightly. She won't hesitate to flee with Hux to another planet, another system, across the entire galaxy if necessary, moving every time Leia gets close. The Resistance has already taken Hux from her once; she’d spend an entire lifetime on the run before allowing it again. “I'll kill anyone who comes near him, Resistance included. That's all anyone needs to know.”

Leia blinks, seemingly unfazed. “I see,” is all she says.

“What – _stop_ _that_ ,” Kylo growls. “He isn't part of this. I mean it.”

“It seems to me that he is, if you're considering raising a child with this person,” Leia points out. “You are considering it, aren't you?”

Kylo swallows uncomfortably. She's given Hux’s potential reaction to this some thought, but probably not nearly enough. She's fairly certain he wouldn't up and leave, but that doesn't mean he might not want to. It would be – unpleasant, to say the least, if he felt that way. Kylo isn’t sure how she would proceed from there.

But Hux has surprised her before. He could do it again. In time, perhaps, he could even be happy about this. He _is_ capable of happiness, she's discovered – and so is she. The dreams she had of their child, while predictably both fleeting and vague, did not lead Kylo to believe that she would be unhappy.

“He's – I need to speak with him about it,” Kylos manages. “But yes. I think so.”

“You should speak with him,” Leia agrees. “I don't think I have to tell you that raising a child is a lifelong commitment.”

There's a lot Kylo could say to that, namely _then why did you pawn me off to Luke in the hopes that Jedi training would fix the voice in my head?_ But perhaps Leia has this question in mind herself. Perhaps it's the very reason she's standing here, after all this time, even entertaining this conversation. Because she made a commitment, and because after everything, she has enough love left for Beni Solo to help Kylo Ren now.

Frustrated, helpless, Kylo blurts, “I don't know what to do.”

Leia’s expression softens. She looks suddenly younger, more like the Leia that Kylo remembers from years ago, one of the few clear images in the fog of mortal memory. “I think you do,” Leia says gently. “You haven't decided yet. But I feel that you've already made up your mind, in your own way.”

This is the sort of statement that would drive Hux up a wall: slightly contradictory and based purely on emotions, and not even especially useful ones. Kylo, on the other hand, finds an odd resonance to it. But Leia, like Hux, has always been good with words.

“I know what the Force tells me,” Kylo admits finally. “And I know what I – what my feelings tell me. But I don't understand how this could be.”

“I won’t stand here and recite wisdom at you,” Leia warns. “I expect you’re quite tired of that. But I will say that I believe some things – good or bad – cannot be understood, but that’s not always a terrible thing. Some things just are.”

Kylo stares at Leia for a moment, searching for a hint of insincerity either in her expression or in her aura. Finding none, Kylo says, “You really aren’t – angry?”

“I’m concerned,” Leia admits. “But why would I be angry?”

“I’ve killed people,” Kylo points out. _People that you loved._ “I may kill more. If the need arises.”

“For your sake, I hope that it doesn’t,” Leia says. “But regardless, this choice is yours to make. I can only offer my support and hope that you accept it.”

There is one more thing she must know, then, as far as Leia is concerned. “If I kept it,” Kylo says quickly, before she can think any better of it, “would you interfere?”

Leia blinks, for once appearing genuinely startled by something. “If necessary,” she says, composing herself quickly. “But I hope you wouldn’t make it necessary. And I hope that you’d allow me the chance to know my grandchild.”

This is a better answer than Kylo could have expected, but she swallows down the first expression of gratitude that springs to mind. She still isn’t entirely sure that she can trust Leia with this – or Luke and Rey, for that matter, the only others who could potentially find her – and she still has much to consider. Hux most of all, now that this is done.

“Do you have a ship for me?” Kylo asks without further preamble. Better to go now, before she can second-guess herself any further. It’s how she’s always tried to do things: head first, ready to charge through anything in her path.

“You don’t have to leave so soon, Beni,” Leia says. “You’re still hurt.”

Not _that_ badly, but Leia probably already knows that, anyway. She’s already expressed a desire for Kylo to stay, and she won’t give in easily. “I have to,” Kylo says firmly. “I’m needed.”

Leia hesitates for a moment, then finally nods. “There should be a shuttle ready to take you. I’ll escort you to the hangar.”

Kylo stands, relieved to find that her legs support her easily now. Now that her initial shock has worn off, she feels – well, not exactly _good_ , but more stable than before. She does pocket the nausea pill when she stands up, however; Leia raises her eyebrows but withholds commentary.

“That’s unnecessary,” Kylo says, walking around the cot to fetch her discarded tunic from the shelf where it had been stowed by Zaira. The back is ripped and crusted stiff with dried blood, but her robe will cover it. “I can find my way.”

There’s nothing Kylo wants to avoid more than some tearful goodbye in the hangar; she hopes to avoid having one here, as well.

“It will be a long trip,” Leia says. She politely averts her eyes while Kylo scrambles into her shirt, although Kylo senses a faint pulse of curiosity from her anyway. The bowcaster wound isn’t _too_ visible to Leia at this angle, and Kylo finds herself mildly grateful for it. She doesn’t want to talk about Chewbacca any more than she wants to talk about her father. However, that is not her only scar. “Are you sure you don’t want anything before you go? Food, fresh clothes?”

“Stop trying to stall me,” Kylo mutters. She fastens her tunic hastily, then dons her robe, slightly relieved to be within its folds again. Leia says nothing, merely raises her eyebrows, and Kylo heads for the nearby exit. She must pass Leia to get there, and feels momentarily disoriented by how much smaller her mother looks from this height. She’d felt the same about Han Solo all those months ago, but this is different.

In the momentary pause that follows, Leia gives Kylo one last long, searching look. “Have a safe journey.”

Kylo swallows, then nods. “I will,” she says, feeling awkward and discombobulated after all that has transpired. She heads for the exit then, robe fluttering lightly behind her.

Leia's voice reaches her at the door. “Beni,” she says. Kylo half-turns at the sound of the old name, her hands in the process of rising to pull up her hood. A habit, almost useless now that she wears no mask, but hard to break nonetheless. “I'll be in touch.”

Kylo pauses. It's a warning, that much is clear, but it's also an offer – extended both to Kylo and to anybody else who comes along.

“You know where to find me,” Kylo replies, lifting her hood and turning away; this time, Leia lets her go.


End file.
